


Harry Potter and the Alliance of the Seven Alleyways

by badunicornshavemorefun



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Mabinogion (Myth)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Harry Potter, Because of Reasons, Dark Harry Potter, Dom/sub Undertones, Dumbledore Being a Dick, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Unintentional Seduction to the Dark Side, Voldemort Being a Dick But That's Okay, Will Be Completed in the Next Hundred Years or So
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badunicornshavemorefun/pseuds/badunicornshavemorefun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds a secret community lost to the wizarding kind for several hundred years and a prophecy older than the Britain is uncovered. The fight against the Dark Lord just got serious. ...Or did it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Visions of a Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an updated version of the WIP fic I published in FF.net a long while ago. I hated how the last few chapters turned out and gave up on it, but have finally decided to continue in a slightly different direction. This is a very slow burn fic, so don't go excepting that relationship tag to go anywhere in a long while. The first chapter is filled with POV changes, but it's fairly straight forward I'd say. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

A pale hand twisted the once-white bedsheets wrapped around a lithe form, choking and suppressing. An anxious gasp escaped from thin lips as a few drops of sweat travelled down a forehead featuring a lighting bolt shaped scar, the dark brow beneath it now also marred by a pained frown followed by a whimper. The-Boy-Who-Lived was having a nightmare.

* * *

Maddrow crossed the small audience hall as quietly as he could, avoiding the light and keeping to the shadows. Cold sweat ran down the mage's back as he listened to the screams coming from the room ahead. If he was captured he would be killed and most probably tortured, for information and otherwise. Once again the man questioned his need to be here, in the headquarters of the most evil wizard in decades, desperately searching for an excuse to leave and never come back again. He found nothing. His fear was pulling him forward, just as it was pushing him away. The need to see his brother alive and as well as possible was winning.

Maddrow's brother knew that the Alleys were important. He knew that and should by default want to protect them as long as he could. So why was Madbran having difficulties with the Alliance? Didn’t his brother know how important it was to keep the secret until the human-child appeared? In his heart Maddrow knew that Madbran did know this, and this trust was the reason he was here, trying to save his brother. 

He just hoped he was right, and Madbran in fact needed saving.

The screams and crazed laughter had gotten louder now. Maddrow stopped in front of the thin pillar of light coming from the ajar door and took a deep breath. He felt sick. These wizards were monsters, taking pleasure in the pain of others and revelling in the blood of the innocent.  
His brother was innocent. Or he should have been. Maddrow opened the door quietly.

* * *

_Harry pointed his wand at one of the worthless muggles and smiled in twisted delight. The muggle screamed and cried as she felt the skin on her arms turn upside-down. Another spell ensured she would scream until her vocal chords were shredded to pieces and would continue even after that. The fact that these weaklings would inflict so much damage on themselves when provoked just a little would never cease to amuse Harry. And even when they didn’t scream they bit their lips to pieces or shredded their bodies until their nails were broken and bloody, like self-inflicted pain would make the rest of it somehow better._  
_Harry was well aware that he had a freeloader in his mind and just this once didn’t care. He should show the boy some of the treatment he would get when he’d be captured._  
_“You see that, Harry-boy? That’s what’s going to happen to you,” Harry said, “if you don’t join me.”_  
_“ **NEVER** ,” Harry spit out, and suddenly knew himself._  
_The door opened, but neither noticed._

* * *

There were eight deatheaters. There were..no, there had been thirteen muggles. Now five of them were corpses and the rest becoming ones too quickly. And then there was Maddrow's brother. His beautiful baby-brother. Not so beautiful anymore. Despite his disgust and sadness the mage felt a slight bout of relief; Madbran had not betrayed them, he was loyal!

Maddrow took a deep breath to gather his strength, took the form of his shade-crow and glided in the shadows to the darkest corner behind the deatheater that was torturing his brother. From the thin waistline and curvy shapes Maddrow deduced that this one was a woman.  
'That is good. It might be more easy to knock her down,' Maddrow thought desperately. But he also knew that there was a very good change that this woman laughing in a crazed manner before him was Bellatrix Lestrange, and that could never be good. By some miracle the whole of Voldemort’s Inner Circle had managed to escape from the battle at the ministry at the end of the last school year. But he preferred not to think about the fact that not only was he going against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but also his high-generals. He was already sweating a lot more than was brave.

Time was now the key, he had to do this quick. So Maddrow took a deep breath, and without wondering for too long if this was at all intelligent and not the most reckless thing he had ever done, he again took the form of his shade-crow and leapt at the female deatheater, pulling the shadows he had been hiding in with him. When Maddrow pushed his black, etherial wings down on her shoulders and over her head, she let out a startled cry swishing her hands about trying to get the offending black material off, blindly shooting spells that ricocheted off the walls and wreaked havoc in the room. Maddrow made sure she was properly entangled before letting go his hold of the shadows.

_The fifth rule of the shadow mages: 'All shadow-material always wants to, and will, get out of light'._

And out of the light it went, back to the dark corner, the deatheater within it. A last sound of shocked anguish escaped her lips as by the wall she was consumed by the black goo, vanishing entirely. Now she was in the Dark Lands, wandering the plains endlessly, before becoming only a wisp of a shadow herself. Continuing his dive quickly, Maddrow leapt at his brother, colliding straight with his chest and letting the shadows swallow them both. The Dark Lands opened before them. The first thing he saw was the tall, silvery tower of Tir Nan Oge, holding the spiraling Silver Cloud, where it was rumored the Necromancer's magic was kept until He would return. Across the grassy soil without the illumination of either the sun or the moon Maddrow could see lighter paths. 

_The second rule of the shadow mages: 'Never stray from the paths'._

Holding his brother close to his chest, Maddrow started walking, weaving his magick of time and space. 


	2. Additional Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude of Great Knowledge.

An excerpt from the book 'The Great Magicks' by Dahlien Terra, published by The Seven Alleyways Print in 1435

> "CHAPTER 5 - THE SHADOW MAGICKS: AN INTRODUCTION
> 
> The shadow magicks are divided into three branches: black magick (otherwise called dark magick or the dark arts), mage magick and necromancy. They work with the three levels of our reality and their magick: the Otherworld, The Dark Lands and the Underworld.
> 
> 5.1 The planes
> 
> The Otherworld is the plane in which you and me (most probably) exist. It was named by one of the very first Necromancers who only stayed on our plane for short periods of time. (more on pg. 367, chapter 6)
> 
> The Dark Lands are the plane in between The Otherworld and The Underworld. It is the plane which shadow mages use as a means for transportation. It is said, that time and distances are not laws on this plane, and can be modified by a skilled shadow mage to quite great lengths. (more on pg. 453, chapter 7)
> 
> The Underworld is not, despite it's name situated in any way below this world. It is the afterlife, but also a place for other beings and spirits. It is divided into six levels which will be further explained in chapter 8 (page 621). The ruler of The Underworld is said to be The Necromancer.
> 
> 5.2 The Magicks
> 
> In theory, anyone born with magickal talent is capable of using black magick, but the use has been notified to be easier to those who have a dark affinity inherited through a bloodline. Even a need to use this branch of magick has been recorded in some families, to keep their magickal skills steady. Black magick draws it's power from the wild magick of our honored Mother Earth, not the tame, ambient magick in the atmosphere or the wizard's core like light spells do.  
>  Black magick is often portrayed as the 'opposite' of the light magicks because of the sacrifice it requires and a wild, intense feeling experienced while it is being used. This polarization is however untrue, for black magick is only a branch of the shadow magicks and light magicks are a whole branch in as themselves. Also, black magick can very well be used in a way commonly viewed as 'light'. Even some healing spells are categorized as black (see attachment 3; 'List of black magick considered light/grey' and attachment 5; 'List of light magick considered black'). And as we are on this particular topic, I must also lower myself to discussing the 'good' and 'evil' magicks, which, actually do not exist. The notion of black magick being 'evil' is entirely ridiculous. Magick is not a sentient being with knowledge of abstracts. As everyone should be aware of, the potiential to harm does not equal the willingness to it, and whether this is to be applied to light or shadow magicks the result is the same. (See more debate on this matter on pg. 1732, chapter 16.)
> 
> The users of mage magick are called shadow mages, and the ability is somewhat restricted to those of higher level of power. The skills every mage possess vary, but there are some common themes. The shadows, The Otherworld and The Dark Lands are every shadow mage's levels of existence, none of them more important than the other. Shadow mages are known to guard their secrets most ferociously and before the training for a shadow mage can begin a test of great importance must be cleared and a vow vowed. The shadow mages have a book of rules in which they mark their most important laws. It has been said not knowing every law by heart can prove fatal for a user of mage magick. No information about what these laws include has been leaked outside their assigned circles, and as such it is believed that any such leakage would garner a very hash punishment.
> 
> Necromancy deals with the Underworld and is an inherited talent. Despite it's popular connotations necromancy does not necessarily mean the ability to raise the dead, or speak to them. Some have even said that even without Necromancy one could raise the dead -provided they had enough magick. And that is where the ability comes to play. Necromancy means the capability of drawing from the energy of the Underworld. These magicks are locked to the common soul, but a necromancer can tap into the current of Death. It is said, that the most powerful necromancer of a time is the ruler of the Underworld. Not very much is known of this branch of the shadow magicks, for a necromancer to visit the Otherworld is very rare, even if they most commonly die and are born on our plane--"

A file from the archives of the Alliance of the Seven Alleyways, dated from 1004, translated to modern English by junior officer and consult Madbran Gwynníghe year 1991:

> As per the wills of the world of beings of Magick have degreed, we are humbled to announce the first commercial Alliance to protect our needs. From the moment this parchment is signed the following Alleyways are sworn to the creeds of the Alliance, whether they be commercial or ethical in thought. 
> 
> Diagon Alley  
>  Knockturn Alley  
>  Acropet Alley  
>  Vertic Alley  
>  Bidirection Alley  
>  Alchemic Alley  
>  Centr Alley
> 
> If the signed by mistake or by intention break the creed, their names shall forever be known as the betrayers and the thiefs and will never be trusted again, in the name of Magick we this swear. 
> 
> _Translator's Note: It is sad to see what has happened to the three Alleys under the rule of the Wizardingkind. The only Alley still holding even a modicum of it's strength today is Diagon Alley, and even then, only as the central shopping street of the British wizards. The rule of the Alliance and all the good it did has been forgotten and trampled upon. The only reason the wizards inhabiting it are not called thiefs and betrayers is because we willed it so, to ward off an even bigger catastrophe. We know they would have betrayed us, but remember that we cannot cast judgement on deeds that will now never come to conclusion. The four Alleyways left of the Seven will prevail, with or without the rest of their kin._


	3. The Bracelet of Balor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and the guard visit Diagon Alley and our golden boy gets hit on the head. Nothing serious mind you, just something made in God-land.

Already when Privet Drive was illuminated by the morning sun Harry Potter had been awake for hours. He had woken up screaming with a horrible pain in his scar and gruesome images playing behind his eyelids. This time it hadn't been so bad. Someone had gotten away. He had no idea how it had happened: one minute he was Voldemort torturing a muggle woman and the next he saw a black, ethereal figure of a large bird launch from the shadows, making Bellatrix disappear and then disappearing itself, taking a tortured, brown-haired man of some twenty-five years with him. Voldemort had been livid, and it wasn't a wonder. Someone had gotten in and out of his stronghold without anyone being able to do anything about it.

'What the bloody hell was that?' Harry thought and swept his hands across his face, 'It was like the shadows just..twisted out of form and swallowed both Bellatrix ('The bitch', Harry ground his teeth) and that man.' That was no magic Harry recognized.

Harry sighed and looked at the clock on his bedside table. It read 6:53, and in seven minutes it would be time for Harry to get up anyways. He turned off the alarm so it wouldn't go off alone and shrugged off the blanket covering his body. It was time to try his best to forget about what ever happened in his vision and make breakfast for the whales and the horse. 

Harry trudged down the stairs with his hair sticking up even worse than normal and eyes bleary, the smell of fresh coffee in the air making his mouth water. Petunia was already sitting in front of the kitchen table reading the Surrey Advertiser of the day and absently sipping coffee from a white porcelain coffeecup. When Harry entered the kitchen she glanced at him and scrunched up her nose at his disheveled appearance. Either way she didn't say anything and Harry was glad. He didn't think that he could've take much of their shit today, especially this early in the morning. He turned on the stove and took out a carton off eggs and four packets of bacon.

At the end of the last school-year Sirius had died. Sirius had died, and Harry had been so angry. He had tried avoiding the whole subject, but the death of his god-father had seemed like the only thing anyone had wanted to talk about. Finally he had caved under the pressure and snapped at Remus when he visited Harry to see if he was okay. It only made him feel guiltier, but when he apologized, Remus just listened and comforted while Harry talked and screamed and cried. It had helped some, and after a while he had realized that he wasn't the only one with the right to be sad. He wasn't even the most justified one, since he hadn't really even known Sirius. He hadn't known that Sirius liked having peanut butter jelly sandwiches for breakfast, or that he had been very close to his brother before Regulus joined the Deatheaters, or that he and Remus had been well on their way into a loving relationship. Not before Remus told him. Those, and many things more Harry hadn't known about. The realization had shocked him into thinking about what exactly he was sad about, and he came to the slightly bitter conclusion that he only missed Sirius for what he could've been; not for what he was. This wasn't a prequel for any kind of miraculous acceptance of Sirius' death, or make the guilt Harry felt for it vanish, but it did lessen his self-righteous pity and anger, and consequently, made the screaming-fits less frequent. And now, two months into the summer, Harry felt a bit more at peace.

Three days ago Harry had gotten a letter from Dumbledore. It had said that they were going to go shopping for his school stuff today: Harry and Harry's five guards. He wondered sometimes, if all this protection was really for his sake, or the headmaster's. Two weeks into the summer Dumbledore had visited him and told him about Sirius' will, and the fact that he now owned the Grimmauld place. He had also told him not to leave the immediate vicinity of the number four Private Drive. Meaning, that he couldn't leave the house. For the whole summer. He had already been jailed in the house he loathed with the three people he hated almost as much as Deatheaters for two whole months. Harry didn't know what to think. No, scratch that, he knew exactly how he felt about this.

It pissed him off.

Dumbledore hadn't even asked him whether he wanted to stay somewhere else. He was once again making the same mistakes he did the previous summer. At least he had told him about Sirius' will, but Harry suspected it had more to do with the fact that he needed to know whether Grimmauld Place was still safe for the Order than with the fact that he thought Harry had the right to know. But it wasn't something Harry could know for sure, so he tried to be understanding. 

When Harry had asked if he could stay at the Burrow, Dumbledore had looked at him with a sad twinkle in his eyes and said: "I'm sorry Harry, but you must understand. I'm sure you don't want to put any more people than need to be in any more danger than they must." Harry had flushed in shame, but later he had felt angry. That sentence had been like a stab at his heart, like an accusing finger who pointed at him: "You. You are the reason Sirius is dead and your friends got hurt. You alone." Dumbledore had used his guilt and "hero-complex" expertly against him. 

Preceding last year this manipulation might have gone unnoticed, but after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries Harry had promised himself to look at everything more sharply. It had gotten through to him in the most terrible manner, that he couldn't trust any superficial observations he made of the world. So why should he trust anyone else's either? In this matter with Voldemort he was alone and as angry as he was at Dumbledore, he knew that the headmaster was also right: Harry didn't want to put any more people in danger. He was quite sure that that was not exactly what Dumbledore had meant, but that was how Harry took it. "I am alone," Harry had thought, and shivered in the sudden coldness that had swept over him.

 

Sometime after lunch the doorbell rang and immediately Harry heard uncle Vernon shout at him from the living room.  
" **BOY** , go get the door, and don't you _dare_ let those freak-friends of yours in to stain the carpets! They'll stay outside, you listening to me?" he bellowed.  
Harry got up from the chair he was sitting in the kitchen reading the newspaper Petunia had abandoned and walked to the door, opening it. The open door revealed four people standing on the steps.  
"Hello Remus, Tonks, Moody," Harry smiled faintly, ignoring the hook-nosed potions professor who was scowling at him from behind the young woman's back, "How do you do? I'm afraid I'm not allowed to let you in, but I'll just go get my jacket and we can go."  
He turned away from the door without waiting for an answer and fetched his jacket, back-bag and wand from upstairs. There was nothing else he needed, since his Gringotts key was still in Dumbledore's tender, loving care. Harry reminded himself to demand it from whichever of his guards had it now, and keep it. It was legally his to keep wasn't it not, and he had the feeling he would be needing it in the near future.

When he came down Tonks grinned at him somewhat weakly and took his arm.  
"You ready Harry?" and without waiting for a confirmation apparated them into an empty side-street just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry gagged and pulled his arm out of Nymphadora's hold while leaning on his knees feeling sick.  
"Tonks! You could've waited a second! You know I hate all magical transportation.. Well, besides brooms that is," Harry lifted his head and glared at the surprisingly normal-looking girl. Tonks just grinned a bit wider and hit his head playfully.  
"Oh, you poor baby! You can face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but can't handle a bit of apparition," the witch snickered.  
"She gave you a fair amount of time to react Potter. Constant vigilance!" Moody grunted behind them, where his other guards had just appeared.  
"And Potter is whining pitifully again. Why, I wonder, do I feel like the wizarding world's fate is doomed?" Snape's sneering voice commented. Harry frowned, but didn't take the bait.  
"Wasn't there supposed to be five of you?" he wondered. Tonks winced, Mad-Eye looked looked like he was about strangle someone and Snape sneered.  
"Yes, indeed. Mundungus Fletcher has once again most graciously let us know that he has 'some other stuff to do'. But don't you worry Potter, I'm sure you'll manage with only four members in your Royal Guard," the potions professor looked at him featuring a dry smirk. Harry rolled his eyes. The man didn't look pleased.  
"Let's go then. Gringotts first, huh?" Harry raised his eyebrow and looked questioningly at Tonks, who nodded back.

The Diagon Alley was different. The laughing and playful crowd was there no longer and nothing seemed to have any color. Instead a horribly lonely sight was presented before them. The windows were plastered with the ministry's safety directions and a few pictures of the known Deatheaters here and there. The wind blew a few fliers down the almost empty street. Only a few places were open anymore. Harry shivered at the sight. When they reached Gringotts, the sight of it was slightly better, but not by much. The doors were shut and two tough-looking Goblins were standing on either side. When the group passed, they looked at them with contempt.

"Oh, which one one of you has my key, by the way?" Harry asked offhandedly, hoping the question seemed innocent enough.  
"I do," Tonks said and fetched it out of her pocket. Harry snatched it out of her hand before she could react. Lucky that it wasn't in Moody's hands. Harry could've never gotten it from the man. Even now Mad-Eye was looking at Tonks accusingly.  
"Thanks," he smiled at her, "I'll be keeping it from now on, then." Tonks looked shocked.  
"Bu-but Dumbledore told to return-"  
"It is mine isn't it? My inheritance, my money. Not Dumbledore's," Harry frowned at the woman. Tonks seemed to fumble a bit.  
"Well, yes, but-"  
"Then everything is in order isn't it. Just tell Dumbledore I wanted to have something from my parents okay?" Tonk's face looked still uncertain, but her eyes softened a bit. Harry turned to face the counters and walked to the nearest one.  
"Hello, I'm here to get some money from my account."  
The goblin didn't even look at him, "Name and key?" it just stated, and continued scribbling and counting coins.  
"Harry Potter, and here," Harry placed the key on the high counter. The goblin took and examined it.  
"All seems to be in order. Crookcleaver here will take you to your vault," the goblin gestured at a much younger-looking goblin on the side. He was wearing what looked to be a very in-fashion suit, the model of which was popular with the younger wizards nowadays. Crookcleaver bowed.  
"This way, please sir," he said with a slightly nervous voice and started walking to the direction of the entrance to the vaults. Harry quickly catched up with him and asked, "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before." The Goblin grimaced slightly, but not un-pleasantly and fumbled with his cufflinks before opening the cart door.  
"Is it that obvious, sir? Yes, it's my first day here. If you'd step in the cart, sir." Harry nodded and did as he was told.

The cart-ride was just as exiting as ever, even if Harry's insides felt a bit iffy afterwards, and he grabbed a few handfuls of large, golden coins. He wondered why wizards didn't use notes. They took a lot less space and were less heavy. 'But I suppose wizards can just use magic to solve that,' he thought. 

As he was about to leave and was a few steps away from the vault-door, he felt something hit his head, hard.  
"Ouch! What the hell?!" he shouted and rubbed at the spot the offending something had hurt. He looked around and saw a glint on the ground beside his left foot. With a slightly stunned expression he bent down to pick the object up. It was a heavy bracelet, a wide, smooth band of some silver-tinted metal with seven jewels featuring a spectrum of colors imbedded into it, one of the stones bigger than the others. It felt cold to the touch, but at the same time somehow oddly inviting. When Harry looked inside the band, he found a small, cursive inscription:

 _"One thousand doors_  
_and six there are_  
_in Tir Na n-Og_

 _Old is the Gate_  
_but few there are_  
_who can tell it isn't tightly locked_

 _And where the Tower starts_  
_there Balor stands,_  
_And where the Tower ends_  
_there the Filidh sees_  
_And the Light has no place_

_Hail, King that shalt be!"_

Harry stared at the inscription in disbelief.  
"This..fell from the roof? What's that about?" He looked up, but there was nothing else to be seen but the dark roof of the vault. Harry looked at the bracelet for a few seconds, but finally placed it inside his pocket. It might not be safe, but it had been in his vault in any case. He should ask the goblins about this.

Crookcleaver stood outside the door and fidgeted slightly. When Harry appeared he straightened his back and asked: "You ready to leave, sir?" Harry nodded, but halted the goblin.  
"There is something I needed to ask, though. Is it..normal for things to fall from the roof down to people's heads in their vaults?" Harry winced. It sounded really stupid even to himself. The goblin looked at him in astonishment.  
"I…I beg your pardon, sir?"  
Harry cleared his throat. "You see, this", he took out the bracelet, "fell from the roof just now and hit me. There wasn't anyone or anything there to make it fall, so I just wondered..how.." During his speech a slight flush had started to color his cheeks and he fumbled for words. Crookcleaver frowned and looked somewhat worried.  
"That does not sound like something I have ever heard of, sir. Maybe…I could ask from someone who has more experience with working in the bank, sir?"  
Harry sighed, and briefly thought about his guards, waiting for him in the lobby, but knew that his curiosity would win out in the end.  
"Yes, that's fine Crookcleaver. Can we do it quick, I have people waiting for me?"  
"We can go and talk to my father, who is the director. I'm sure he wouldn't mind it this time."  
If Harry didn't know any better he could've sworn that the small goblin blushed at this.

 

The doors to Director Ragnok's office were covered with gold. His desk stood at the end of a long corridor with a red carpet and the size of the room was half of the Great Hall. But the goblin himself was tiny, so there really was no reason for Harry to feel at all intimidated. And he wasn't. Not at all. Seriously. Not even when the goblin narrowed his eyes at him menacingly.

"So, what exactly happened?" the director growled. Harry took a shaky breath. Oh, just scratch that about him not being nervous.  
"Well, I was just finishing collecting some money and turned to walk out of my vault, when I felt something hit my head. When I looked down I saw a bracelet on the ground. …And, that's it, really. There was no reason for it to just suddenly fall out of nowhere so I though it might be of some significance?" Harry finished his sentence with a nervous question in his tone. The goblin raised his eyebrow and a cruel smile crept to his lips.  
"Ah. I believe that this isn't anything to worry about Mr. Potter. Sometimes there are objects in vaults that are supposed to be found at the right times. It sounds to me that this bracelet wanted to be found by you, and was most probably sitting somewhere anyone could see. But when you didn't take any notice of it, it decided to make itself apparent." The goblin folded his hands in a self-satisfied manner and looked amused. Harry blinked bemusedly and frowned.  
"Ah…I..see. But why would it want to be found by me?"  
The goblin looked at the boy with a more serious air.  
"I do not know. Maybe there has been a significant change in your life? Maybe it has some properties that might help you in any way? Who knows. But..to be more certain I could look at it for you? Would that be acceptable?" Harry reached for the bracelet in his pocket and fetched it out.  
"I suppose..," he hesitantly placed the bracelet on the desk in front of the goblin. Ragnok's hand lifted and almost came to touch it, but just a few millimeters away from the metal his hand froze and jerked away sharply. Harry flinched and looked at the director in astonishment. The goblins eyes were narrowed, but his pupils had been dilated to the point his eyes looked almost fully black. Ragnok slowly folded his hands.  
"You say..it just dropped on you head?"  
"Yes, that's what I said. Is something wrong?" Harry said with a worried voice. The goblin sighed deeply.  
"…No. But this artifact is somewhat precious. I can't tell you much about it, nor do I really wish to. I suspect there is an inscription there?" the goblin looked at him with his eyebrow raised. Harry nodded and after a prompt, took the bracelet and read the inscription aloud. The goblin stood still, but after a while opened his mouth and spoke absently.  
"Tir Na n-Og. That is the mysterious land that has even appeared in the myths of the muggles. The land that knows no pain, no disease. In the early literature of the magical it is referred to as the Dark Lands. The plane in between, the plane of shadows," suddenly the goblin looked at Harry sharply, "I cannot say what the meaning of this poem is, but I can tell you that it speaks of things out of this world. Maybe even dangerous things. This Balor.. In the words of this day, Balor is talked about as the Death. Filidh is the seer whom he held close, nowadays called Lady Faith. This poem is a poem about Gods. And this bracelet was most certainly made by them."  
Harry was stunned. He hadn't even known that the wizards had any gods. Except maybe Merlin and Morgana, but they weren't really gods, he didn't think..  
"Gods?" Harry asked weakly. Ragnok looked at him with absolute certainty.  
"Yes, Gods."

After the Potter boy had been led out of his office, Ragnok brought his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. This was becoming…interesting. Interesting, but just bit on the tedious side. He didn't know if he should feel gleeful at the prospect of Harry Potter being the real owner of Balor's Bracelet or horrified because the boy so obviously was under Dumbledore's wing. There was of course the chance that this was just a coincidence and had nothing to do with the boy.  
"Yeah, right. That's just a bit too much to wish. That boy is involved in every Balor damn prophecy there is," Ragnok muttered to himself and cursed under his breath.


	4. Following Fletcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds something pretty cool.

Balor knows exactly what it means when the familiar, warm feeling of a connection being made invades his dream. It's only a start and not even close to a real bond yet, and for that slim mercy Balor is glad. 

The tucking grows steadily in intensity and forces Balor away from his peaceful dream of seagulls and fishes and fresh, salty air blowing through his hair. He follows the feeling and the light grows and then suddenly dims. He lands in a dark place with a mount of gold and silver and copper coins, and stands behind a wild-haired man wearing baggy pants and hideous glasses.

"This..fell from the roof? What's that about?" says the man (with a voice younger than the years in his eyes) in bewilderment and finally Balor sees the bracelet he's been expecting. The bracelet he owned and made and gave to the only woman he ever loved. And later damned for existing. After being cursed by Filidh, that piece of jewelry had only brought him a horrible mess of soul bonds and love and loss, repeated over and over again. 

The sick feeling in Balor's stomach was spreading even faster this time and he firmly decided to obliterate the cause for it. Balor would make sure that a bond with this young man would never be formed. Not over his own soul, not over his believer's souls, not over the demolishment of his world, would he be forced to fall in love with yet another ancestor of his first soul mate. Now, to get to know this young man's name, and he might actually have a chance at that. 

When Crookcleaver introduces the wizard as 'Harry James Potter, the successor of Houses Potter and Black' to the Director of Gringotts, Balor barely suppresses a whoop of glee, flashes a self-satisfied smirk instead and decides that it's time to wake up and go and have an audience with certain Goddesses of love.

 

Harry walked out of Gringotts with his head full of thoughts and the bracelet weighing down in his pocket. Ragnok had assured him that it was in no way dangerous, even if it was presumably 'the property of Gods'. Harry didn't know why the thought felt so preposterous to him; if there was magic, werewolves, unicorns and vampires, why not Gods? And if the bracelet was made by one, then it wasn't that unbelievable that it would have a mind of its own and for some reason decided to want to follow him. ...Maybe it knew that life around him was never dull.

Snape was striding down the road in front of Harry with such a pace that it was hard to keep up with him. It seemed like the man was trying to breeze thorough the day as fast as he could, like it was physically painful for him to be near Harry. Their next stop would be Flourish and Blotts.

Harry stepped inside the musty store. The clerk flinched at the entrance, looking sharply at the door and visibly sagging in relief when seeing the wizarding-world's last hope instead of a white, skull-like mask, black robes and the flash of green light.

Snape was already rifling through the books in the section labeled 'Potions' and mumbling to himself. Moody disappeared somewhere down the lane marked 'Defence' and Tonks was half-heartedly trying to strike up a conversation with the nervous girl at the counter. Harry fetched the list of books needed for next semester out of his pocket when he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Two people were walking down the Diagon Alley, right past Flourish and Blotts seemingly deep in conversation. Nothing unnatural with that one, but right when Harry noticed that the other person was Mundungus Fletcher who was supposed to be on Harry's guard, it turned weird. The man walking beside Dung looked straight at Harry through the shop-window, their eyes locked and just after Harry noticed the peculiar shade of blue of the man's eyes his sight went entirely black, like someone had thrown a dark curtain over him. Harry panicked and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. In a few seconds his sight cleared, but the man and Fletcher had disappeared, leaving only a sunny Diagon Alley behind. In a split second Harry made a decision. Very quickly he looked around him, trying to locate his guards. Snape was still somewhere behind the Potions-shelf, Tonks had actually managed to break the ice with the girl and Moody was nowhere to be seen. That didn't mean he wasn't actually watching Harry anyways, but Harry decided it was worth the risk. He tip-toed to the door and opened it quietly.

When he got out of the store he looked around just in time to see the back of a wildly gesturing Fletcher disappear around the corner. Harry took a few running steps and hurried after the two. He cursed himself for not bringing any robes with him. The Alley was almost empty, but he could've been at least a bit more anonymous without his ill-fitting muggle clothing. He lifted the hood of his dark jacket to cover his face from sight and peered around the corner. The pair hadn't gone into any shop and just walked along the Alley, past any smaller roads and past the turning point to Knockturn Alley. They were heading for a dead-end. Harry stayed were he was, not wishing to be seen when the wizards would have to turn around. He didn't see any reason for this little walk the men were on, but maybe they were having a business negotiation and just wanted to have some fresh air? That could happen, but it didn't explain the strange blacking of his sight.

Just when Harry thought that the men would have to turn around, they…didn't. The unknown man put his hand inside his pocket and fetched out something small that Harry was too far away to identify, grabbed Fletcher's hand and just walked right through the grey stone wall.

For a few seconds Harry just stood there, gaping at the wall which had seemingly swallowed two people right before his eyes. When he finally managed to shake himself out of his stupor he looked around and hesitantly walked over to the wall. It was just a normal wall. Nothing peculiar about it. Harry was just going to lift his hand to touch it when…

"Well, are ya gonna stand there gawking like a common wizard or are ya gonna come in?" came an annoyed question right above Harry's head, seemingly out of the stone wall. Harry flinched and looked around quickly.

"Wha- Come in where?"

Another, slightly more sophisticated voice suddenly gave an impatient harrumph and answered:  
"To the Vertic Alley of course. I take it you haven't used the Diagon entrance before?" 

Harry blinked and bit his lip. Well, no, he certainly hadn't.

"Umm, no?"

"It works just the same as the other three entrances. Just grab your stone and walk through. Come on now, we don't have the whole day."

"Yeah we do really," muttered the gruffier voice, and a smack and an "Ouch!" was heard.

"My..my stone? What stone?" Harry furrowed his brow. Did he have to have something to get through to where Dung and his companion had gone? It seemed likely now that he thought about it. But these voices seemed to think he had whatever it was that was needed.

"Are you stupid? The yellow stone of the third section of course!" exclaimed the second voice.

And suddenly Harry remembered the bracelet and the seven stones imbedded. One of them had been yellow, hadn't it not? Harry dug the bracelet out of his pocket and looked at it. There indeed was a yellow jewel, right in between a green and an orange one. 

Harry swept his thumb over the stone and gaped when suddenly the gray stone wall in front of him melted away, revealing a two meter wide staircase leading downwards and around a corner with two figures standing in front of it. They both had armory made of leather and were clearly soldiers. 'Maybe guarding the entrance..,' Harry thought. The other one had light blonde hair and a pair of long ears were peeking underneath. He had a graceful beauty to himself, and Harry recognized him from the magical creatures lessons. This was a high elf, who were supposed to be nearly extinct, with only a small colony left somewhere in Thailand. The other one was a creature Harry didn't even recognize. He had hair like a lions mane and a pair of small tusks were peeking out from under his lower lip.

The lion-maned creature looked at him with a weird expression.

"What are ya gapin' at, ya boy! Get on with it!" he grunted and gestured to the stairs leading down. Harry hurriedly closed his mouth and took a hesitant step forwards. He flicked his eyes to the elf quickly before walking past the two and down the stairs.

The stairway was quite dark since it was pushed in-between two high stone-buildings, so when Harry crossed the corner, he was blinded by light and met with the loud and happy chatter of a crowd. When his sight cleared he couldn't help his mouth from falling open. He was standing on the side of a peculiar alley with people bustling all around him. The sight was so different from the empty and depressing view of Diagon Alley, that Harry was momentarily stunned. There were people everywhere, laughing and talking and shopping like Voldemort had never even been born, but that was not the most odd thing about it. The whole alley was in the form of a huge, steep staircase that from where Harry was standing went up to the right and down to the left, with shops astride. When he looked up, he couldn't see the end of it and when he looked down, he was met with a dizzying sight of the staircase going down and down, but without any ground to be seen. If he were afraid of heights he would've been paralyzed. This place wasn't something that was physically possible in any way, yet there it was.

Harry's head cleared from his first surprise just to be quickly met with another. 'Holy mother of Merlin! None of these people are human!' And sure as Voldemort's knickers, he could see a couple more of those supposedly extinct high elves giggling to themselves in a shop selling magical make-up, three vampires wearing sunglasses and high collars were sweeping past him and even a troll was humming to himself just a few feet away from Harry. There was every kind of magical creature here, and Harry didn't think that he was wrong in assuming that he was the only wizard in sight. 'And what did that guard call me? A common wizard?' Harry chuckled to himself. This was beyond outlandish.

Suddenly Harry remembered why he was there in the first place. Mundungus Fletcher. He started scanning the crowd with his eyes, but couldn't see anyone that looked even close to Dung. Not that it was a surprise. Firstly, he was short, and secondly, he had taken so much time getting there that Dung must have been somewhere far already. But he supposed he could just ask the man later on what he had been doing in a place like this. Or maybe not. He would have to tell the man he had followed them. Harry decided to just look around now that he was there.

 

The second Maddrow had seen the boy in the shop he had know he would be trouble. He didn't know why, since he had never even seen the kid before, but he had learned to trust his gut instinct and right now it was screaming that he needed to get out of that boys sight and fast or he'd be mixed up in something he definitely didn't want to get mixed up in. So in a quarter of a second decision he flashed out with his shadows and pulled them over the boys eyes. They should hold him for a minute, which would be more than enough for Maddrow and Fletcher to get out of there. The feeling was intensified when Fletcher saw the boy through the shop window and tensed.

"Oh fuck, Potter! Did he see us?" Fletcher groaned. Maddrow lifted his brow. 

"Maybe. Yes, I think so. Why?"

"I was ordered to accompany the boy on his shopping trip today, but bailed," the man grimaced. "I think I don't want to spend a perfectly good day with some angsty teenager."

Maddrow hummed. Ordered..? By Dumbledore, that much was clear. The old coot seemed to have quite a lot of power amongst the wizards. But that was not significant, not to him nor to his community.

"That's true. I wouldn't either."

The men walked through the stone wall without noticing the shadow of a young man following behind them.


End file.
